


lock me up and hold me tight

by julgru



Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, Future Fic, M/M, Marriage Proposal, kind of?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-13
Updated: 2014-04-13
Packaged: 2018-01-19 02:08:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1451500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/julgru/pseuds/julgru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“What’s this?” Harry asks and turns around. The box is kind of heavy in Harry’s hands, and he strokes the lid slowly, feeling the velvet fabric move under his fingers.</p><p>“What? Wait, no! Harry, don’t-“  </p><p>Or, the one where Harry discovers Nick's romantic side in the City Of Love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	lock me up and hold me tight

**Author's Note:**

> so basically, I came across a picture on tumblr (which I now of course can't find) of a bridge in paris, where cute little couples hang locks with their names written on them, and then throws the key into the river. long story short; this wasn't my fault, I swear. I blame everything on Harry Styles and Nick Grimshaw for being horrible and adorable at the same time.
> 
> I should probably also warn you that my paris-knowledge is equal about zero, so there is 110% chance there's something incorrect in the text. 
> 
> also, this is my first time publishing a fic, so be nice or I'm going to end up in a corner of my room for the next century. faaaaaaanx! x

The room is bright when Harry wakes up. He feels relaxed and content, like when you’ve had a really good night’s sleep. He turns around, still sticky from last night; both he and Nick too lazy and tired to clean up. He looks up to meet a pair of glossy brown-green eyes staring at him.

“Hiya.” Nick rasps. Harry can’t help but smile, Nick’s morning voice is the best thing ever, no doubt.

“Morning.” Harry answers, shifting so that he’s closer to Nick. Nick’s body is warm and soft, and Harry can’t help but running a hand over his little tummy, feeling Nick drawing it in slightly. Harry rolls his eyes, fond.

“Breakfast ends in an hour, I think. D’you want to have a shower first?” Nick says, stroking a hand up Harry’s side. Harry feels himself shiver and a trail of goose bumps appears where Nick’s hand just touched. Nick has that kind of effect on him; it’s nothing Harry can help, really.

“Yeah, m’ all gross. You want to join?” Harry smirks, watching Nick as he rolls his eyes.

“Nah, you go ahead. I have to answer some emails, Finchy told me he’d send me next week’s schedule anyway. Rosie H-W bailed on us, so they had to find someone else,” Nick says as he untangles himself from Harry’s body, reaching for his phone on the bedside table. “I dunno who they got though.”

“She’s pretty. And nice.” Harry says, feeling oddly cold without the extra body heat.

“I’m prettier and nicer though.” Nick says, pouting his lips and batting his eyelashes, making Harry giggle.

“Of course you are, darling.”

“Get in the shower, you horrible thing. I want to shower too.” Harry barks out a laugh, but gets out of the bed anyway. He picks out a pair of clean pants from his suitcase and wanders into the bathroom.

-

“Bonjour, monsieurs. What would you like to drink this morning?” the waiter says, his dark moustache catching Harry’s eyes.

“I’d like to have a coffee. Just milk, no sugar, thanks.” Nick says. Harry swallows his eggs and orders a cup of tea with three sugars and no milk, making Nick raise an eyebrow. Harry just shrugs.

“So, what’s the plan for today? Anything in particular you would like to see in the City Of Love?” Harry says when the waiter’s left their table, adding a wink on the end.

“Oh, shush you. Don’t go all guide-y on me now,” Nick says, rolling his eyes. “You’re a tourist too, you know.”

“Of course, love. Just wanted to see if you had any like, ideas.” Harry says, chewing slowly on a piece of toast.

“Actually, yes. I’d like to see _Le Louvre_ , but there’s no stressing. We still have, uhm – three days left. Lots of time.” Nick says, finishing his beans.

“No, that’s a great choice. I’d like to see the museums on this side of the river first though, and then we can go to the other side, yeah?” Harry says slowly, his foot meeting Nick’s under the table. He can see Nick freeze for a moment, and then relax. It’s been over a year since they came out together, but yeah, it still feels a bit strange.

They agree on starting at an art museum after breakfast. Harry feels really excited; he and the lads never really have time to visit stuff like that when they are out touring the world. It’s mostly the same routine in every country they visit; record some interviews, one or two shows, a few hours of sleep before leaving for the next country, and then repeat.

“Stay here, I just have to run to the bathroom, yeah?” Nick says when they’re ready to go, hurrying towards the elevator.

“There’s toilets just around the corner, babe. You don’t have to go to our room.” Harry says as he puts on his jacket. It’s warm outside, but he’s only got a t-shirt on, and the museums are usually a bit chill.

“Yes I do. I have to – um – put on some moisturizer, too.” Nick says, his hand running through his messy quiff. Weird. Nick always put on his moisturizer after he’s showered, not even once forgetting about it.

“Okay then. I’ll wait here.” Harry says, not wanting to cause a scene in the middle of the lobby. He sits down on one of the fancy sofas in the lobby and pulls out his phone. He’s got a couple of unread emails, but he ignores them. He’s on a break, work will have to wait. He scrolls through twitter and answers a few fans until he hears the elevator doors open, and Nick steps out.

“You ready?” Nick asks as Harry stands up. Harry makes an agreeing noise and moves to take Nick’s hand, nodding politely to the receptionist before leaving the hotel.

-

They end up spending a ridiculous lot of time at the closest art museum. It’s got four floors with different collections and artists, and Harry’s determined to go through them all. Maybe even buy a piece. That would be a nice souvenir.

Nick, on the other hand, seems distracted. He’s barely paying attention to Harry’s comments, even less the paintings. He keeps staring at his phone, typing on it now and then.

“Grim! Look at this work. It's so pretty.” Harry says, walking up to a big, colourful painting. It’s basically just shapes; no visible motive. It’s got lots of nice and bright colours though, and Harry thinks it would look amazing in the lounge. Or maybe the kitchen. No, the lounge is better. There are too many colours for the kitchen.

“Hmm? Yeah, it’s great.” Nick says absentmindedly, still typing on his phone.

 _“Nick,”_   Harry whines, drawing out on the ‘i’. “Stop being weird and pay attention.” At that, Nick lifts his head, puts away his phone and walks over to Harry, hugging him from behind. From the corner of his eyes, Harry can see a couple of phone cameras pointed at them, but he can’t be bothered to move away from Nick’s body.

“Sorry, love. What did you say?” Nick says, putting his head on Harry’s shoulder.

“Do you think this painting would look good in the lounge? Not the kitchen, it’s too bright.” Harry says, leaning back against Nick.

“Hmm. You’re probably right about the kitchen, but we already have a painting in the lounge, remember?” Nick says, kissing the side of Harry’s forehead. Harry knows that they’ve got a painting in the lounge, but this one’s _so_ pretty. He just wants it.

“What about the bathroom? Wait, the guest bedroom doesn’t have a painting. We could hang it in there?” Harry turns around to face Nick, pouting slightly. “Or we could take down the one in our bedroom. I don’t like it anymore.”

“Whatever you want, popstar.” Nick smiles and kisses Harry’s nose before pulling away to have a closer look at the work. Harry takes the opportunity to send a message to his assistant, texting the details of the painting and asking her to see if it’s for sale. He really, _really_   wants it.

They continue through the whole museum, floor by floor, until they’re both hungry and grumpy. Harry’s found a couple of pieces he’s sent away to his assistant, meanwhile Nick’s mostly been paying attention to his phone and the crowd around them that hasbeen steadily growing by the hour. A few girls has been brave enough to interrupt them and ask for a photo, but Harry still thinks they were pretty discreet.

By the time they’re out of the museum, both of them are starving and in desperate need to find something to eat. They spot a small café only a few meters from Seine. It’s really pretty; the sun is shining and the water is almost still.

“Should I have the chicken salad or the Caesar salad?” Harry asks, eyeing the menu in front of him. They had lots of salads here. Perhaps that is a thing in France. Or perhaps not.

“That’s the same thing, love.” Nick answers, picking up the glass of wine he had ordered earlier. Harry mimics the gesture and picks up his own glass before letting the alcohol burn down his throat. The waiter had claimed that it was the best wine they had, but Harry isn’t really a fan of it. Harry isn’t really a fan of wine in general, he prefers a good beer or a sweet drink, but it’ll have to do. If someone knows how to do wine, it would be Frenchmen, Harry thinks.

“No, the Caesar salad doesn’t have any brie.” Harry says. Not that he’s craving brie or anything, but it makes his stomach rumble. Nick seems to hear it, because he snorts and leans closer to Harry.

“I think you have the answer right there, darling.” Nick says and links their fingers together on the table. Harry can’t help but let a giggle escape, lifting their hands to press a kiss to Nick’s wrist. Nick is staring intently on his lips, making Harry’s cheeks heats up slightly. Harry loves the look Nick gets on his face when teased in public; looking as if he’s having a mental conversation with himself whether to rip Harry’s clothes of or not. He usually doesn’t. Well, he never does, but Harry wishes that he would from time to time.

It’s probably for the best, though.

They’re interrupted as the waiter comes to get their orders. Harry gets the chicken salad and Nick gets some kind of sandwich. Or maybe it was a hamburger. Harry doesn’t listen. He’s too busy watching Nick’s fingers that are wrapped around his wine glass. They’re quite nice, his fingers. Goes on forever, Harry thinks. They would look so good -

“Harry? You alright, love?” Harry is dragged from his daydream much soon that he’d wanted to. Instead he nods and takes a large gulp of his wine, nose scrunching up at the bitter taste once again, adjusting himself in his jeans. Oups. That wasn't supposed to happen.

-

They spend the rest of the afternoon at _Le Louvre_. They walk up and down the streets, popping into a few shops, having a few pastries now and then, taking lots of photos, kissing and holding hands; like a proper couple. Harry is happy, but he can see Nick growing more nervous the closer they get to dinner time.

“Should we eat at a restaurant, or should we just order room service at the hotel?” Harry asks, watching the sunset on the bridge between _Le Louvre_ and the museums they visited before. The bridge is full of small padlocks, each one with two names on. _Nicole and Joseph,_ one reads. _Ronny hearts pizza,_ another. It’s pretty, and Harry feels blissful, and in right this moment, nothing could make him happier.

“You decide. You’re the one who knows your way around this place. Got anything good for me? I’m expecting to be swooned here, Styles, so it’s got to be something fancy.” Nick says, but there’s no strength behind his teasing. It makes Harry giggle anyway, so he doesn’t mention it.

“I think I’d like room service tonight. I’m knackered and my legs hurt.” Harry says, turning to face Nick before placing a small kiss on the corner of Nick’s mouth. He feels Nick smiling into the kiss, so he presses one more kiss on Nick’s lips, this one a little firmer. Nick’s hand comes up to cup Harry’s cheek, and he sighs into the kiss. He feels Nick’s tongue on his bottom lip, and he opens up immediately; letting Nick control the kiss. They kiss until both of them are breathless; biting and sucking on each other’s lips. Harry’s grown half-hard by the time they pull away, panting and smiling.

Harry moves to grab Nick’s hand and head back to the hotel, when he feels Nick hesitating. He looks nervous, and it makes Harry’s stomach twist uncomfortably.

“Is there something wrong?” Harry asks, stepping closer to Nick again. They’re not as close as they were only a few seconds ago, but Harry can still feel Nick’s body heat from where he’s standing.

“I-, maybe we- I have, uhm,” Nick sounds hesitant, and it makes a minute for Harry to recognize the tone in his voice. Nick is pretty much close to always confident in what he does, or at least he makes it sound like it. “No. Nothing’s wrong. Let’s go home.”

Harry could see from a mile that there’s something Nick isn’t telling him, but he doesn’t want to push it, so he takes Nick’s hand and follows him to the hotel.

-

By the time they are back, the hotel’s kitchen is closed. Harry suggests Chinese, and ten minutes later he’s out looking for some restaurant called Chu Sha – something, that the receptionist had recommended. It takes him a while, but at least he finds it, and that’s a win Harry supposes. He orders more food than they’ll probably end up eating, but he’s starving and it feels like he could eat the whole world if possible.

When he gets back to the hotel, he’s shivering and the food is probably cold. The clock's passed ten, so he has to be quiet or people will call for security and all that. Harry opens the door to their carefully, trying not to make much sound as he goes.

“I know Gells, I do. Fuck, why do you think I’m here? No, he doesn’t. I don’t know! Yeah, probably. I tried, I really did. I just couldn’t.” Harry tries to get closer to hear who Nick is talking to, but he ends up tripping over his own feet and falls backward and onto the front door.

“Fuck, he’s here. I have to- yeah, will do. Bye,” Harry curses his luck and forces himself up from the door. “Harry? S’ that you?”

“Yeah, I’m here,” Harry answers, taking of his jacket and picking up the food before walking further into the hotel room. “Who were you talking to?”

“No one. Just my publicist. There are pictures of us on the museum all over the internet,” Nick says, pocketing his phone. “She just wanted to make sure that we had a good time. Well, almost. I think that was her point, anyway.” From what Harry heard, it didn’t sound at all like Nick’s publicist, but they can talk about that when they’re back in London. Now is holiday, and holiday is a no-fight time.

Harry moves to put the bags of food on the small desk in the corner of the room. He hangs his jack on the chair, and is just about to face Nick when he sees a small, black box next to a dirty t-shirt. His heart starts pounding, and he feels his palms go sweaty.

“What’s this?” Harry asks and turns around. The box is kind of heavy in Harry’s hands, and he strokes the lid slowly, feeling the velvet fabric move under his fingers.

“What? Wait, no! Harry, don’t-“                                                              

Harry opens the box to find a small, silver padlock, just like the ones on the bridge. _Nicholas and Harry_ are engraved on the flat side of it, as well as a small heart on the bottom corner. The key is still in, decorated with the same type of heart as the padlock. It’s shiny, and Harry can’t help but touch it. It’s cold, as if it’s been out in the cold air. When Harry looks up to meet Nick’s face, he’s looking nervous again.

“I’m not proposing, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Nick blurts out. Harry tries not to look disappointed; they’ve been together for almost five years now, and he was kind of hoping that it would be some kind of move in that direction. “I just - fuck.”

“I don’t understand.” Harry asks, trying to keep a steady voice. Everyone knows that Harry is a crier at the best of times, but this craves a no-tears face.

“It’s sort of a, uhm, promise? Maybe? Like, you don’t have to decide anything now, you’re still pretty young. It’s just, a promise. A promise that I’ll love you. Forever, probably, knowing my luck. So, if you’ll have me, then I wouldn’t mind. At all. Actually, I’d quite like it, I think. You don’t have to say yes though, it’s just a thought I-“ Harry cuts him off mid-sentence with a kiss. Or more like a hug-kiss. Harry can’t decide what do to first, hug Nick or kiss him, so he ends up doing both. Nick doesn’t seem to complain though, so.

“You’re a fucking twat. Fuck, Nick. Yes. Whatever the question was, yes. God, Nick.” Harry cups Nick’s cheek and kisses him hard, the box still in his hand. He puts it on the bed next to them and melts deeper into the kiss; biting and sucking on Nick’s bottom lip. Nick laughs against Harry’s lips. 

“Calm down, popstar. I prefer to have my lips on my face, at least until the day I turn fifty, thank you very much.” Nick plants a soft kiss to the corner of Harry's mouth. Harry can’t be bothered to say sorry though. Instead, he buries his face into Nick’s neck, sucking in a deep breath. Nick always smells so good, a perfect mixture of cologne and sweat.

"This is so not like you." Harry giggles. He knows Nick, and has done for a long time, and Nick isn't really creative when it comes to romance and stuff like that. He's more of a traditional chocolate-and-roses person, but it's not like Harry complains about it. He quite likes it, actually.

"What? I can be all lovey-dovey," Nick says, affronted. "Okay, maybe Fiona made us listen to her reading the _Daily Mail_   where a widower had put his before this wife's name on a padlock, locked it on the bridge and threw the key into the river. And then I may have mentioned it to Aimee and Gells, and they convinced me that it was a good idea to do that to you, and I was like 'What? Like kill him and put his name on a'-"

“I want to blow you," Harry blurts out, cutting of Nick's rambling. "Can I?” Nick’s breath hitches, but he pushes Harry gently away.

“Supper first, then blowjob. S’ that alright?” Nick asks, pressing his swollen lips to Harry’s forehead. And, yeah. Harry could do that. As long as he can have Nick, he could do anything. If he’s lucky, he might even get Nick to shower with him later, even though they both showered this morning. Harry doesn’t think Nick would mind though.

“We have to hang the lock on the bridge too. Could we do that after the blowjob?” Harry asks, picking up the small box again. The padlock is still there, so at least he wasn’t dreaming. Thank God. 

“Tomorrow, love.” Nick says, wrapping his arms around Harry from behind. Harry leans back against him and presses a soft kiss to Nick’s jaw.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

**Author's Note:**

> if it wasn't clear before, this story takes place in about 2017 in paris, france. just making that clear.
> 
> find me on tumblr; julgru.tumblr.com (:
> 
> feedback is well appreciated!! x


End file.
